In the End
by EvilDime
Summary: After the battle of Hogwarts, Wizarding Britain is free of Voldemort and the world celebrates. With one exception - a lonely hero who is still a slave to a powerful mistress. Implied HP/CW. Somewhat experimental story.


_**Disclaimer:** The world and characters of Harry Potter are not my own. I make no money with this story.  
_

_**Beta:** None. Anyone up for the job?_

* * *

**In the End**

by Dime

* * *

"So, it is over", he stated, calmly.

She kept watching the scene below her, acknowledging him only with a slight nod.

It was obvious in the way he held himself, the way he nodded curtly to himself, that he never expected any more. It had always been that way between them. She would barely acknowledge him, while simultaneously holding him on an awfully short leash.

One of his hands rose to the collar around his neck at the thought. He rubbed it slightly, a habit he had picked up years ago and never managed to lose, no matter how many odd glances it had earned him.

Effortlessly, he slid to his knees by her side.

Her hand stroked over his hair, once, in a rare show of acceptance. He leaned into the touch.

Then, he turned to watch the Great Hall of Hogwarts along with his Mistress.

He saw the bodies of the many dead the last battle had brought them, but he also saw the living – wailing, talking, celebrating. There had been great losses, but a great victory had been won that day, as well.

His victory.

He smiled, but it looked wrong and painful on his face.

He had helped to free the world of a monster. His friends – well, what friends had survived, anyway – and their families would be safe. Safe and free.

The smile turned bitter.

Free.

He looked down at the cuffs binding his hands. They were wrought of the same material as the collar around his neck. Strands of fate all, thin, but unyielding, unforgiving. A prophecy around his neck, anchoring the leash by which his Mistress held him. Other prophecies to strengthen it. The expectations of the wizarding public binding his hands, committing him to the path She had set him on. Obligations.

He frowned at the spikes that grew on the inside of the cuffs. Those, he could not blame on her. Those were of his own doing. His own heroism, his low self-esteem, his eagerness to please and his devastating readiness to sacrifice himself for the sake of others. He was hurting himself, had been hurting himself ever since he entered the wizarding world.

And now, he had freed them; yet he himself remained a slave.

A grim line set about his mouth.

He had come back. For them. For the peace of the world he knew. To fulfill his obligations, to force the interpretation unto the prophecy that was best for all. The interpretation he was sure he was meant to put there.

When he had stood in that train station between Life and Death with Dumbledore, the old man had offered him a choice. But really, what choice was that, when Fate still had not released him from his bonds? He may have longed to go on and be with his parents, his godfather and Remus. To finally be free... But the choice was not his.

He was still her slave.

And she had decided that he was not yet allowed to go.

He hung his head. His shoulders shook as he truly realized that no matter what he did, not matter how much he went along with her plans, Fate would never let him go. He would always remain her slave, her pawn, her little hero boy, her child of prophecy.

* * *

She looked down at the broken child at her feet.

He may be an adult by his world's standards, and yet he was still a child in so many ways.  
Death had demanded a trade: Fate may command his life in her stead, but at the price of his childhood. She had agreed. So the child had grown up without really growing up; for in order to grow, one must start small. But this child had been denied a normal childhood in every way. Unloved, made to work, and threatened by the very entities who commanded his life: by his lacking caregivers first, then by the machinations of that Headmaster of his - and above all, by herself. She had much to answer for when it came to this child's happiness.

And yet this had been necessary to fulfill the prophecy, to keep the world moving in the direction she had chosen.

Death had named her price, and the child had payed.

He looked so defeated. He knelt at her feet, crying silently for all he had lost and all he knew he would never have. Her collar had bitten into his skin where she had tugged him back onto his set path many times when he would have strayed. The cuffs had grown spikes over the years and his blood dripped sluggishly from the most recent wounds they had dealt him, trailing down his arms unnoticed.

Her eyes shifted back to the drama unfolding in the hallowed halls of the wizarding school. There he sat, her little tortured child, apathetically at a table on the fringes of the chaos. Alone, even in this moment.

Always alone.

Her hand rose of its own accord to stroke over his tousled raven hair once again. Many had called her a cruel bitch, and oftentimes, her actions would make it seem true. But Fate did have a heart. Especially for those that had served her well.

"Enough."

* * *

He looked up, puzzled. It was the first time he had ever heard her speak.

Or had he merely imagined it?

"Mistress?", he asked, hesitantly.

"Enough", she repeated, and this time there could be no mistaking her words, for she was looking straight at him and he could clearly see her lips moving. "You have done enough."

His heart suddenly beat faster. Could she really mean...?

"You will let me go?" How he wished he could be with his parents! To leave it all behind: the expectations everyone had of him; the obligations they put upon him as their savior; the hurt and heartache of knowing that he had died to save the world – and a mere two hours later, no one even seemed to notice him sitting right there.

She was right, it had been quite enough. He was ready to go, if only she would let him!

Eagerly he looked up at her.

He was surprised to see her smile. She never smiled before.

"I have not had much reason for smiles when it comes to you", she answered his unspoken question. "Your life has not given much cause for happiness."

Which was mostly her fault, though.

She seemed to read that thought, as well. "I will not apologize", she stated calmly.

He snorted. Of course she would not. Fate did what she did. One did not question and one did not rage at her. One merely accepted her orders and obeyed.

Even though it hurt.

"Enough", she repeated. "You have done well, little one. You played the part I needed you to play in this world. It is time for you to see if you can find some happiness there, as well."

In this world...? He grimaced. "You still will not let me go where I would?"

Warm, deep eyes looked down to meet the green ones with their tired, shallow gaze.

"I will set you upon a path one last time. But it will be up to you if you wish to follow it."

He hung his head in defeat. Another set path. Of course. How could there be anything else?

He wished his body were as dead as he felt inside. Maybe then, he could finally rest in peace. Despondently, he waited for the tug of the leash, herding him in whatever direction she wanted him to go.

But it never came.

He raised puzzled eyes to meet her soft, sad gaze.

"Enough", she said once more.

Her hand rose to his cuffs and they disappeared. She let go of the leash and it turned to dust. Both her hands came to lie softly on his cheeks as her lips breathed a soft kiss on his forehead. Then the hands lightly traveled down, meeting the collar around his neck. She squeezed, once, and it fell apart. The pieces clattered to the floor and crumbled until not even dust remained.

He shivered.

He did not know what to make of this. Would she fashion him a new collar now?

Once again, he was looking down, confused and hurt by what was happening. But she laid a finger under his chin and forced his eyes up to meet hers, once more.

"There will be no more collar", she explained, softly. "You have served me well. Now, you will be free."

And with these words, she was gone.

* * *

Harry blinked. That had been... odd. He must have dozed off – he sure was tired enough for it! - and had a dream. A very, very bizarre dream.

The thought rang wrong in his head. Not a dream. He shivered. He unconsciously rubbed a hand against his neck and was startled not to meet a resistance there.

Bizarre, yes.

With a great effort, he put the encounter from his mind and stood up. He had felt tired and defeated when he sat down, like his entire victory was hollow, somehow, like he had nothing to live for, really. But now, he felt invigorated! He wanted to go and ... and... and what?

Kiss Ginny?

He rubbed his left wrist and was surprised, once again, to only encounter smooth skin. Obligations, his own voice repeated in his head. Expectations.

But they were gone now, weren't they? He had done his part. Hadn't he?

* * *

Fate watched on as her little hero slowly made his way through the hall.

She had set his foot upon a path that could lead him to happiness, but would he be able to follow it? She looked over at Death, who was busy herding the last stragglers of the day's events into the life beyond. Death nodded at her and Fate was sure she had seen a smile under that hood.

She smiled back. Death was a really good friend, most of the time. She really could not imagine life without her.

Turning back around to her child of prophecy, she watched his steps once more in great anticipation. Would he follow the path that had been carved for him by the people around him, or would he – as a poet once so aptly put it – take the road less traveled by? She had taken the cuffs off him, unbound him from the expectations and obligations. They were still there, but he was now free to ignore them.

But would he? Or would he continue on as he had, out of habit?

Just as long-term prisoners often were incapable of living a normal life in the outside world once their term was served, was it too late for her little hero? Had he grown so used to her leash and collar that he could not find his way without them?

The thin, pale, dark-haired child had arrived at his destination. He turned towards the group of redheads gathered around a table at the north side of the hall. Fate leaned in closer when he began to speak.

His voice was soft, hesitant. But the word it spoke made her smile.

"Charlie...?"

~ _The End_ ~


End file.
